Once saved always saved? Er, Yes and No

God chose us in him before the creation of the world… In love he predestined us for adoption to sonship through Jesus Christ… Ephesians 1:4-5

It is impossible for those who have once been enlightened, who have tasted the heavenly gift, who have shared in the Holy Spirit, who have tasted the goodness of the word of God and the powers of the coming age, and who have fallen away, to be brought back to repentance. Hebrews 6:4-6

The service had just ended and my friend turned to me and asked, pretty much out of the blue, “Where do you stand on the ‘once-saved-always-saved’ question?”

It rather took me aback because it didn’t seem to relate very closely to anything in the service. But I didn’t know him very well so, as they say, hey-ho. In case you’re a bit puzzled by the question, basically what he wanted to know my opinion about was: Is it possible for a person who has truly trusted in Jesus for salvation to lose that salvation? Or are we eternally secure even if we fall away from Christ?

It took me back to my early days as a teenage Christian, when we used to have long, earnest discussions about it, as we did also about matters like election and predestination, or the baptism of the Holy Spirit, or the second coming. Those days are long-gone, and it surprised me that here was someone for whom it was obviously a live issue.

For me, the question boils down to a recognition that the Bible contains strands and themes which seem to contradict one another, or which, at least, are extremely hard to reconcile with one another. Questions to which one is sorely tempted to reply “Er, Yes - and No”.

Take predestination, which means God deciding from all eternity what is going to happen in history – including who is going to be saved. It has a bearing on this theme.

It’s certainly taught in scripture. Ephesians 1:4-5, for example, tells us that God “chose us in Christ before the creation of the world… In love he predestined us…”. Verse 11 tells us that we have “been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything according to the purpose of his will…”. Such verses sound pretty clear; so if indeed God has, so to speak, selected in advance those who are to be his children, it’s hard to imagine that any such person can be finally lost. Can the eternal purposes of God himself be so easily thwarted? Surely not! God is utterly in control! (Romans 8:29-30 is a similar classic text.)

But, on the other hand, the simple call of the gospel (“Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and you will be saved…”, Acts 16:31), clearly implies that all of us, as individuals, have to make a decision to believe, which can only mean exercising our power of choice. And that power of choice presumably is not cancelled out once the gift of salvation has been granted. Paul, in Galatians 5:4, plainly tells his readers that “you have fallen away from grace”. And the writer to the Hebrews states explicitly that if a believer has “fallen away” (he seems to assume that it can happen) then “it is impossible” for them to be restored (Hebrews 6:4-6). That’s pretty severe stuff! His approach seems to turn the debate on its head - not that it is impossible for us to fall away, but that if or when we do, it is impossible for us to come back.

How can we reconcile such passages?

The answer is simple: we can’t, and we shouldn’t try. What we need to grasp is that the Bible is not a text book of pre-packaged doctrine, where everything is cut and dried. Different books were written in different historic contexts and for different reasons; it’s no wonder therefore that different emphases emerge, and even seem sometimes to clash. Paul in both Ephesians 1 and Romans 8 was writing to reassure and uplift faithful believers; in Galatians 5 he was writing to warn, even scold, believers who had turned away from the essence of the gospel. Likewise, the writer of Hebrews 6.

I can’t help feeling both cynical and sad when I think about the millions of hours spent and the gallons of ink spilled by learned and saintly men and women as they have tried to pin this question down and get it sorted once for all. However convincing such solutions are, there will always be equally learned and saintly men and women who respond with “Yes - but…”. We understandably shrink from saying that the Bible contains contradictions, because it is divinely inspired – but there can be no doubt that sometimes it seems to do so! Plain honesty forces us to look that fact right in the eye.

Stopping and thinking about it, it’s hard to avoid the feeling that the whole debate is sterile and pointless anyway. After all, if a person we are concerned about as having fallen away eventually comes back, well, we will rejoice and say, “Great! But then we aren’t really surprised – it just proves that the true believer can never fall away!” But if that person goes further and further away from God, we may well end up saying, “Oh well, it looks as if they were never truly converted in the first place”. And how does that help us? It’s like playing a game of heads-I-win-tails-you-lose.

Time spent fruitlessly fretting over the debate would, surely, be better spent positively – praying, or evangelising, or offering pastoral support, or reading scripture, or – well, just getting on with life.

None of us knows for sure the true state of another person’s heart. Only God does. The best thing, therefore, is to be plainly practical: if a true Christian seems to have fallen away, then treat them as a non-believer and work to bring them back. God knows what is needful; can’t we safely leave the outcome to him?

Father, your word contains many wonderful truths and clear-cut teachings; please help me to enjoy them and always cling to them. But it also contains things which are puzzling and hard to understand; give me the humility and honesty to be willing to say “I just don’t know”. Teach me, Lord! Amen.

"... psalms, hymns and spiritual songs..."

Praise the Lord.

Praise God in his sanctuary;
    praise him in his mighty heavens.
² Praise him for his acts of power;
    praise him for his surpassing greatness.
³ Praise him with the sounding of the trumpet,
    praise him with the harp and lyre,
⁴ praise him with timbrel and dancing,
    praise him with the strings and pipe,
⁵ praise him with the clash of cymbals,
    praise him with resounding cymbals.

⁶ Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.

Praise the Lord.

Psalm 150

After they had sung a hymn, they [Jesus and his disciples] went out to the Mount of Olives. Matthew 26:30

… be filled with the Spirit, speaking to one another with psalms, hymns and songs from the Spirit, and make music from your heart to the Lord. Ephesians 5:19

The Victorian poet Gerard Manley Hopkins started a poem with the line “Felix Randal the farrier, O he is dead then?...” I can see him looking up from whatever he is doing and pausing to absorb the news: the news of somebody who obviously mattered to him, though perhaps not in a specially personal or intimate way. If the poem is based on fact, and it certainly feels very much like it, then Hopkins, a member of the Roman Catholic Jesuit order, was Randal’s priest.

I think I know how he felt, having just seen a newspaper headline: Timothy Dudley-Smith the hymn-writer, O he is dead then?

You may not know who Timothy Dudley-Smith was, but he has been pretty much an ever-present in my adult life, even if only on the margins. He was an Anglican clergyman who served in a variety of ways, known as a friend and colleague of John Stott, but primarily as a prolific and highly gifted hymn-writer (some 450 in all). I never met him, but news of his death brought to mind hymns that became popular across the whole Christian spectrum: hymns like “Lord for the years your love has kept and guided”, “Tell out, my soul, the greatness of the Lord”, and the little, lilting carol “Holy child, how still you lie”.

Music and singing have always been important to God’s people. Judging by Psalm 150 they were quite a rowdy lot in the Jerusalem temple, weren’t they? And even before the supreme crisis of the cross Jesus and his friends “sang a hymn” (no doubt one of the psalms; I wonder what voices they had: baritone, bass, tenor?) And then Paul tells the Christians of Ephesus to sing “psalms, hymns and songs from the Spirit”. Music and singing aren’t just optional extras to worship; they are of the essence.

Which is why people like Timothy Dudley-Smith make such a vital contribution, and leave such a memorable mark, on the life of the church. Just re-reading some of his hymns today has given my heart a lift. (Fine tunes as well, by the way.)

The word “hymn” sounds a bit dated today, and it’s not easy to decide what difference there is, if any, between a song and a hymn. Not that it really matters, of course, as long as they are God-centred. Dudley-Smith’s output, from the ones I know, would certainly fall into the “hymn” category – many of them, in fact, are paraphrases from the psalms. They avoid the danger of being overly me-centred, as if Jesus lived, died and rose again purely for the individual; nor are they overly repetitive, but contain plenty of good meat to nourish both soul and mind; some of them, in fact, could be described as sung prayers; they are certainly God-centred.

Here, as a sample, is the final verse of “Lord, for the years”…

Lord, for ourselves; in living power remake us - /Self on the cross and Christ upon the throne./ Past put behind us, for the future take us,/ Lord of our lives, to live for Christ alone.

Amen to that!

In our English-speaking world we take sung worship for granted, but it’s good to pause and think for a little to see if we can make better use of the massive resources that are available to us. Here are a few suggestions that pastors, vicars, worship-leaders etc might find worth pondering…

First, use the whole range.

Churches can tend to limit their worship-material to match their own doctrinal emphasis. That’s understandable, but it can make for a very stodgy, samey spiritual diet – even, dare I say, a rather boring diet. We can all have too much of a good thing; even the finest bread goes stale.

Venantius Fortunatus, for example (yes, really!), lived from about 530 to 609, but one of his monkish, plainsong-type hymns can bring an echo of a distant age and a bygone spirituality to refresh our jaded palates. Not to mention Martin Luther (“A safe stronghold our God is still”), Charles Wesley (“And can it be that I should gain /An interest in the Saviour’s blood”), William Cowper (“God moves in a mysterious way /His wonders to perform”). Such writers still have something to say to us, treasuries of wisdom to impart to us, alongside Keith Getty, Stuart Townend, Graham Kendrick, Matt Redman and the many others who enrich our modern worship. So, even if only to a limited extent – use them!

Second, it can be good to sit to sing.

Little prayer-songs sung seated can be effective in establishing a mood of quietness and prayer and helping us to focus our minds on God. It’s very easy to breeze casually into God’s presence and go mechanically through the motions without giving a thought to what we’re actually doing. Be still, and know that God is God.

Third, it can be helpful to have a song or hymn read before singing it, perhaps getting volunteers from the congregation. That way, our minds are fixed on the words (and they are what matters most, after all), and we can avoid the danger of singing mindlessly.

Fourth, keep in mind that what we are doing is recognising and enjoying the presence of God, not engaging in a performance.

Good musicians are a great gift from God, and we should be thankful for them, but… it’s not about them. Keep Jesus at the centre.

Fifth (perhaps especially for drummers), remember that God is not deaf. Enough said.

These are just a few thoughts prompted by the death of a great hymn/song-writer. There’s a lot more that could be said, but hopefully this is enough to make us a little more aware of just how blessed we are. May God help us to make full use of the resources he has laid at our feet.

Father, thank you for the wonderful resources, including music, that you inspire in  your church, and for the gifted men and women, both past and present, who produce them. Teach us to value them aright, and to use them to the best advantage. Amen.

Can we change God's mind? (2)

⁹ “I have seen these people,” the Lord said to Moses, “and they are a stiff-necked people. ¹⁰ Now leave me alone so that my anger may burn against them and that I may destroy them. Then I will make you into a great nation.”

¹¹ But Moses sought the favour of the Lord his God. “Lord,” he said, “why should your anger burn against your people, whom you brought out of Egypt with great power and a mighty hand? ¹² Why should the Egyptians say, ‘It was with evil intent that he brought them out, to kill them in the mountains and to wipe them off the face of the earth’? Turn from your fierce anger; relent and do not bring disaster on your people…

¹⁴ Then the Lord relented and did not bring on his people the disaster he had threatened.

Exodus 32:9-14

All right, you and I aren’t Moses. Where we live and serve God is in far humbler situations. And, anyway, his description as the “friend” of God (Exodus 33:11) suggests that the depth of his relationship with God was extremely rare, if not unique. But that doesn’t mean we can’t learn from his example in this incident of the golden calf and his remarkable conversation with God. It can help us as we think about prayer, giving us an example to follow. The following thoughts come to mind…

First, pray boldly.

God declares his intention to destroy his chosen people because of their “corruption” (verse 7) and their stubborn, “stiff-necked” nature (verse 9). How dare a human being, Moses or anybody else, stand against this? But this is exactly what he does: “Lord… why should your anger burn against your people?... Turn from your fierce anger” (verses 11-13). And – guess what? - God chooses to do just that, to “relent” (verse 14).

I’m sure it goes without saying that Moses prayed respectfully - he “sought God’s favour”; he addressed him as “Lord”. But he was unafraid to tell God exactly what was on his mind, and that’s a principle we can all follow (doesn’t God know it all anyway?).

There are many such examples of bold prayer in the Old Testament – think, for example of the “Why, Lord?” prayers of the psalms. An example chosen pretty much at random: “Why, Lord, do you stand far off? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?” (Psalm10: 1). Isn’t this something all of us think from time to time? Well, why not put it into words, then?

And you don’t need to read far into the book of that combative character Job to find plenty of other examples: “Why then did you bring me out of the womb? I wish I had died before any eye saw me” (Job 10:18). A man not given to mincing his words, even when they are tinged with bitterness! But God’s shoulders are surely broad enough to take it; he far prefers frank, humble honesty to mealy-mouthed grovelling.

So… Are we bold in our praying?

Second, pray as children.

This, of course, is the angle that Jesus himself encourages us to adopt: “Our Father…” We are not God’s “pals”, and shouldn’t pray as if we are; but, wonderfully, we are his children, and we should have that in our minds whenever we pray.

I knew somebody once who delighted so much in the intimacy of his relationship with God that he took to addressing him as “Dad”, which, to most ears, struck a distinctly jarring note for all sorts of reasons. I don’t doubt that God, in his grace, smiled lovingly every time he heard it, but I suspect that that habit didn’t last very long.

Respect and reverence, yes, of course; but neither cold, formal words on the one hand, nor exaggerated casualness on the other - isn’t that the right approach to God in prayer?

So… Do we consciously approach God in prayer as children?

Third, pray with expectation.

Actually, to be strictly accurate, we aren’t told how much Moses expected God to respond to his plea: quite possibly he was taken by surprise by the speed of God’s response. But I don’t think we need doubt that he expected something to happen as a result of his entreaty.

And this, surely, is a good reminder to us when we come to prayer. If, to be honest, we really don’t have any expectation of something happening – well, why bother? Whether in personal prayer or in a gathering with other believers, the danger is that our prayers can become a merely repetitive discipline or an empty ritual.

Admittedly, this can be tricky to get hold of. It’s hard, after all, to remain expectant when a particular prayer seems to have gone unanswered for months and even years.

This is something I personally know a little bit about. I’ve regarded it as part of my pastoral ministry to pray regularly, possibly daily, for certain situations and individuals. And in some cases, even over many years, precisely nothing seems to have happened. Trying to find new forms of words to use makes no difference; nor does trying to “psyche” myself up (after all, you can’t force yourself to feel something you don’t feel). So I simply persevere the only way I can, and finish with, “Well Lord, that’s all I’ve got! I know I can’t twist your arm, so I leave these familiar requests at your feet, and ask that by your Spirit, and in your own good time, you will turn them into power”.

But the thought occurs to me that the fact that I haven’t heard of any change in the prayed-for situation doesn’t necessarily mean that there has been none. Who can tell what God may be doing quietly in someone else’s heart?

I take encouragement from the thought of what might be called “incremental” answers to prayer. The dictionary defines an increment as “a minute increase in quantity”, perhaps easily overlooked, usually in the context of money. But why shouldn’t it also take a “spiritual” form? That person I have been praying for, for example - perhaps that deepening of their relationship with God, that noticeable maturing of their faith, are indirect answers to my feeble-seeming prayer?

To be on the look-out for such “coincidences” can enable us to pray more trustingly and with refreshed confidence. Who knows… we might be in for some wonderful surprises when, ultimately, we stand in the presence of God!

Whatever: Christian, keep praying!

Father in heaven, please help me by your Spirit to pray boldly and honestly, with childlike faith and an expectant spirit – and to have eyes which are open to see answers in unexpected places. Amen.

Can we change God's mind? (1)

 

⁹ “I have seen these people,” the Lord said to Moses, “and they are a stiff-necked people. ¹⁰ Now leave me alone so that my anger may burn against them and that I may destroy them. Then I will make you into a great nation.”

¹¹ But Moses sought the favour of the Lord his God. “Lord,” he said, “why should your anger burn against your people, whom you brought out of Egypt with great power and a mighty hand? ¹² Why should the Egyptians say, ‘It was with evil intent that he brought them out, to kill them in the mountains and to wipe them off the face of the earth’? Turn from your fierce anger; relent and do not bring disaster on your people…

¹⁴ Then the Lord relented and did not bring on his people the disaster he had threatened.

Exodus 32:9-14

Can we change God’s mind?

That’s not as simple a question as it might seem. If, as Christians believe, God is perfect and almighty, surely his purposes are established from all eternity? How dare we imagine that sinful creatures like us can do any such thing?

From the early days of the church, indeed, God was held to be “immutable”– that’s just a technical term for “unchangeable” - on the grounds that if something can be changed it can’t have been perfect in the first place: how can you improve on perfection?

All very logical. But if that is the case, what’s the point of praying? “Ah”, says a very spiritually-minded Christian, “but that’s not what prayer is about! It’s not trying to change God’s mind; it’s about growing a deeper relationship with him!” There’s truth in that, to be sure. But also there’s no getting away from the fact that in the Bible God is portrayed as “relenting” (even “repenting”, if we go with the KJV), which is really just another way of saying “changing his mind”.

Exodus 32 is a dramatic example of this.

The people of Israel, delivered from slavery in Egypt under the leadership of Moses, have met with God at Mount Sinai. After receiving the “ten commandments”, God summons Moses up the mountain, where he “enters the cloud” and stays “for forty days and forty nights” (Exodus 24:13-18). Uknown to him, the people down below seem to have virtually panicked at his prolonged absence – and they persuade his brother Aaron to build an idol in the form of a golden calf which they can worship as their god.

God, of course, sees this, and tells Moses to get himself down the mountain while he prepares to destroy his fickle people. But – and this the truly remarkable part - Moses refuses to tamely accept this. There follows a conversation in which you could almost say that Moses calls the shots…

When God says to Moses “Now leave me alone” (verse 10), it’s as if he is telling him to “clear off and stop bothering me, so I can get on with the business of pouring out my anger on the people and destroying them” (putting it in down to earth modern speech). It’s almost as if he – yes, God himself! - is afraid that Moses, the man of prayer, might persuade him to change his mind.

But Moses won’t be put off. He appeals to God to think of his reputation – “If you destroy your own people, who you brought out of the land of Egypt, think what joy that will give to your enemies!” And so we read in verse 14: “Then the Lord relented and did not bring on his people the disaster he had threatened”.

People sometimes speak of the power of prayer. Well, it’s hard to imagine a clearer example than this! What are we today to make of this slightly bizarre story?

A key need is to recognise that the language of the Bible is extremely varied, especially when portraying God. God is infinite, way beyond our grasp or comprehension, so we need to have him described for us in earthy ways, through metaphors and figures of speech.

A simple example is that God has no physical body (he “is spirit”, John 4:24), yet the Bible repeatedly describes him as having hands (which means he does things) or eyes (he sees everything) or a face (he can express both pleasure and displeasure). According to Exodus 19:4 he “carried you on eagles’ wings” which, taken literally, is just not true, but is a graphic way of conveying the glorious manner in which he delivered them from slavery in Egypt.

The same principle applies to the conversation between God and Moses here in Exodus 32. On first reading, it might seem to portray an angry, rather tetchy God who is determined to destroy his wayward people, but who is then persuaded out of it by a human being who manages to hit a raw nerve in his nature. But we instinctively feel that, of course, it is far, far deeper than that - that it is in fact a way of making us tremble at the just anger of God, and then marvel at the power of the pleading of a holy human being.

Did God literally “change his mind” on that occasion? To our human perception the answer is yes. But the deeper meaning is that God has given to us human beings the dignity of playing a significant part in the outworking of his purposes. Yes, our feeble prayers can and do make a difference to the unfolding of history!

There are other examples in the Old Testament of the unchanging God actually… well, seeming to change. A particularly striking one is 2 Kings 20:1-11. Through the prophet Isaiah, God tells the sick King Hezekiah to “put your house in order, because you are going to die”. Hezekiah “weeps bitterly” and prays a heart-broken prayer; whereupon within hours or even minutes he is given a reprieve: “I have heard your prayer and seen your tears: I will heal you”.

Such examples, to be sure, are rare; but surely they are there for a reason?

But back to our earlier question: what are we today to make of the event of Exodus 32? Please join me next time as we try to draw some very practical lessons…

Father, I often struggle in the matter of prayer, especially when I compare my feeble efforts with things I read in your word. Please help me to persevere in faith, so that one day I will see how wonderfully you have answered them. Amen.

Righteous anger? (2)

¹¹ When Cephas came to Antioch, I opposed him to his face, because he stood condemned. ¹² For before certain men came from James, he used to eat with the Gentiles. But when they arrived, he began to draw back and separate himself from the Gentiles because he was afraid of those who belonged to the circumcision group. ¹³ The other Jews joined him in his hypocrisy, so that by their hypocrisy even Barnabas was led astray. Galatians 2:11-13

We’ve been focussing on the need to stay united in Christ, as he prayed in John 17. If we must disagree, let’s do it agreeably!

But we saw last time how Jesus himself could be ferociously angry with those who were in opposition to the purposes of God, not least the scribes and Pharisees, the “brood of vipers” (Matthew 23). And Paul too, the very man who pleaded with the Christians of Rome not to fall out with one another (Romans 14), got involved in a furious dispute with no other than Simon Peter – Cephas, the “Rock” appointed by Jesus, the human head of the church – in a way that becomes more and more remarkable every time you look at it.

Just glance through the little passage above…

1.    1. Paul “opposed Cephas to his face” (verse 11), indeed “in front of them all” (verse 14). This, remember, is Paul talking, the new kid on the block, the man who had viciously persecuted the early believers, whereas Peter had been with Jesus from the very start in Galilee. How dared he!

 2.   Paul stated that Peter “stood condemned” (verse 11). That’s a strong word. To many Christians it means something like “eternally lost”, but that surely is inconceivable here. More likely it means simply “in the wrong”, “seriously out of line”; but whatever, it’s not exactly friendly.

 3.   Paul accused Peter of “hypocrisy” (verse 13). It seems that at first Peter was perfectly happy to sit and eat with the Gentile believers who had come into the church in Antioch. And so he should be, of course! - according to Acts 11 God had given him a personal vision to make very clear that in Christ the dividing line between Jew and Gentile was totally wiped out, including the taboo on sitting at the same table; what more could he ask? Yet under pressure from “certain men from James”, otherwise known as “the circumcision group” (verse 12), Peter “drew back and separated himself from the Gentiles”. Well, we know from  the gospels that Peter could be emotional, headstrong – and sometimes downright weak; but this…!

 4.   To make matters even worse, Peter’s bad example had the effect of leading others astray: “other Jews joined him in his hypocrisy”. Peter, remember, was the leader – and leaders, obviously, tend to get followed, that’s what they’re there for. Then Paul adds some words which, I think, are among the saddest in his letters: “… even Barnabas was led astray” (verse 13). Barnabas! Oh, my dear brother Barnabas! my mentor and friend! my missionary travelling companion! my right-hand man at that tense, difficult conference in Jerusalem when these things were thrashed out (Acts 15) - You too? Surely not!... And yet it was so.

Something big was brewing at Antioch, and, as Paul saw it, it could have worked out for either good or bad. If Peter had been unchallenged about his withdrawal from his Gentile fellow-Christians, that would have amounted to a denial of the gospel of God’s free grace available to all, Jews and Gentiles – of what Paul called “justification by faith”, for that was ultimately about the uniting of all men and women in the one church, the body of Christ. Not that Peter wanted or intended any such thing, of course, but he seems to have been timid, and that could have been the effect of his influence.

Precisely who the “certain men from James” were and why they did what they did, and precisely who “the circumcision group” were, isn’t completely clear. No doubt they were true followers of Jesus, but they wanted the new wine of the gospel of justification by faith alone to be poured from wineskins that belonged to the old era of Judaism. Paul’s intervention, together with the big church conference described in Acts 15, ensured that that didn’t happen.

So… where does this episode leave us? I suggest five lessons…

First, respect and love your leaders – but don’t put them on a pedestal.

To me, the sheer fallibility of Peter is one of the things I like most about him. (Perhaps I’ve just got so much in common with him!) But Jesus loved him after failure, restored him, and entrusted him with great responsibility.

Second, if we disagree on doctrinal matters, make sure the doctrines in question are the cardinal ones.

Differences over how the Spirit is given, or kinds of water-baptism, or the timing of the second coming of Jesus, or whether every believer should speak in tongues, or whether God created the world in six literal days, or what exactly we mean by “the authority of scripture” - (I could go on, but I won’t) - such differences, ultimately, don’t really matter all that much.

Third, let’s keep in mind, if Peter could lose his way, so might you or I.

None of us are infallible - are we? (Enough said under that heading.)

Fourth, be wise if/when various outside groups infiltrate the church.

We don’t know a lot about “the men from James” or “the circumcision group”, but they clearly carried some weight and wielded real influence. For us, “infiltrators” could be sent by God – yes, don’t automatically rule that possibility out – but they could also be trouble-makers. Be alert; be discerning.

Fifth, take Jesus’ prayer in John 17 seriously.

He didn’t pray these words for fun: “so that they may be one… so that they may be brought to complete unity” (verses 22-23). Unity in Christ isn’t just an optional extra; so far as it depends on us, it’s an absolute must.

Dear Father, you sent Jesus to save us from our sins, to make us new men and women, and to create unity and harmony within your church and wherever we can. Forgive us the ignorance, the failures, the arrogance and the sheer indifference of which we are often guilty, and teach us to love all our brothers and sisters, however different they might be from us. Amen.